


A Haunting at the Eldridge Hotel

by pseudosmodingium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Ghost Hunting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudosmodingium/pseuds/pseudosmodingium
Summary: Cas can’t deny Dean anything. So when his best friend asks him to go on a ghost hunting adventure at the local Eldridge Hotel, he’s all on board. To his disappointment, however, two girls happen to tag along and Cas has a hard time containing his jealousy. Firstly, because this night was supposed to be just the two of them and, secondly, he’s afraid Dean could secretly be into Charlie. And then the hotel might actually be haunted.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	A Haunting at the Eldridge Hotel

**Author's Note:**

> There is an actual (supposedly) haunted hotel in Lawrence, Kansas. How could I not write a fic about that? 
> 
> As this is a real place and there’s a short history of the Eldridge Hotel in this story, beware of very brief mentions of slavery in Cas’s short overview on the hotel.

A shadowy figure is lurking in the dark alleyway behind a row of trashcans. Rustling comes from deep inside one of those, probably a raccoon. Something’s stuck to his sole and he tries to wipe it off on the ground. It stinks here. This was supposed to be an adventure but he’d rather have one less smelly and without the threat of rabies infested vermin nearby.

“Quit skulking and come out,” Castiel speaks up. Nothing moves.

“Hello?” The night remains silent save for a car driving by on the street. Even the movements in the trashcan have stopped. “This isn’t funny.” His voice wavers slightly as he approaches the dark corner.

The noise of an empty can hitting the ground somewhere behind him makes Cas jerk his head around, cold sweat prickling on his back as he watches it roll out from under one of the containers, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

“You’re late,” a voice says out of nowhere and Cas jumps back, almost tripping over the empty can on the ground. The night hasn’t properly started yet but he’s already on the verge of a heart attack.

“Don’t do that!” Cas wheezes, clutching at his chest.

“It’s just me,” Dean says, “no need to piss your pants.”

“I’m not p—” He trails off. There’s no point in trying to argue. “Why didn’t you come out when I called you, you ass?”

“I wanted to scare you a bit, jeez. Couldn’t have known you’d overreact like this.”

Cas glares at him. “Sorry,” Dean says, shrugging. Then he asks, “Did you bring the camera?”

“Yes, Dean, I brought the camera.” He unshoulders his backpack and retrieves said camera. “I couldn’t find an empty tape so I had to go looking for something we can overwrite.”

“And did you?”  
“What do you think?” Cas sighs and opens the cassette compartment. “Of course, I did. Let’s just hope Michael never goes looking for Dad’s recording of last year’s playoff final.”

“I thought they lost that?” Dean says and takes the camera to examine it.

“Yeah, but Michael still scored a touchdown for the team.”

“Whatever, who cares about football anyway.”

“My brother does. And if he ever finds out about this, he’s going to kill me,” Cas says and snatches the camera out of Dean’s curious hands.

“He’d have to go through me first,” Dean states with a sly smile on his face and Cas is all of a sudden very aware again why he stole his father’s video camera and sneaked out in the middle of the night to loiter at the back entrance of a hotel about to commit trespassing. Dean does have that effect on him.

Cas puts the camera back into the backpack and clears his throat. “So, how are we gonna get in there without getting caught?”

“Trust me, I have a plan,” Dean says and as if on cue, the backdoor opens creakily and a flash of red pokes out under the dim lamp above.

“Hey, boys.”

“Charlie?” Cas says. “I didn’t know she was coming too.” He’d assumed it would only be the two of them but apparently Dean failed to mention Charlie’s involvement to him. Not that he doesn’t like Charlie. In fact, he likes her a lot and with her on board they might actually have a chance at getting away this. Charlie has her ways, even though Cas often questions their accordance with the law.

Dean is already by the door when Charlie adds, “What are you waiting for? Come on, Cas.” So he hurries inside to join them and finds himself in the now empty hotel kitchen. Only half the lamps in the room are lit. There is a man standing by the exit and Charlie fist-bumps him as she walks by. “Thanks, Cesar,” she says.

“Do you know this guy?” Cas whispers after he’s caught up to her.

“Obviously,” she replies but doesn’t elaborate. Cas thinks it’s for the best not to ask. He stops abruptly when he realizes where they’re headed. “Guys?” They ignore his concern and continue their way into the lobby. There are no guests around at this time but there is an older, irritated looking man slouched behind the reception desk, huffing when he sees them. Neither Charlie nor Dean seems to be bothered by his presence.

“Cas,” Charlie says and great, now the man has noticed him as well. “May I introduce you to Rufus. He’s the night receptionist and will be so kind to grant us access to the most active areas in the hotel.”

“As long as you kids keep it down and don’t disturb the guests,” Rufus drawls and pointedly flips a page in his magazine.

Cas sends Charlie a questioning look. She moves closer. “I politely asked the manager to give us permission to investigate for our ‘school project’”—she makes actual air quotes—“on historical landmarks in Lawrence.” Cas can’t believe they went with the most obvious explanation. What if the manager contacts the school and asks about how their project is going?

“Didn’t they ask to see some kind of proof for the assignment?” he worries.

“They did not,” Charlie says and with a hand on her hip adds, “but don’t you think I didn’t come prepared.” Of course she would. Charlie is very much into forgery of school documents.

Dean claps his hands together. “Now let’s get started before the night is over.” He walks across to the sitting area. Cas follows suit but is startled when he realizes there’s already someone sitting in the wingback chair he was aiming for.

“Occupied,” Meg Masters slurs, “find yourself someplace else to sit.” She’s busy braiding a strand of her hair. It’s not naturally black and she’s even scarier now than before she decided to dye it.

He shoots Dean a glare that says, _What is_ she _doing here?_

Dean makes a _Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite her_ face and takes the chair opposite hers which leaves only the seat right next to Meg for Cas. _Thanks, Dean._

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie says as she notices the awkwardness. “Mr. Masters is the manager and he made it his one condition that we invite Meg along.”

“And I told him I don’t care about your ghost hunting crap.”

“But for some reason you didn’t bust us by telling him there’s not actually an assignment,” Charlie points out.

“Whatever,” Meg says and shifts in her seat so that one of her legs is now dangling over the armrest, the one closest to Cas and she could easily kick him in the shoulder if she wanted to. He takes a precautionary slide to the far end of his own chair. Then he catches Dean’s eye. He’s grinning and Cas doesn’t understand what’s so funny. Dean has been joking about Meg being totally into him because of the way she acts like the complete opposite and Cas argued that the only kind of feeling Meg not so secretly harbors for him is pure hatred. He doesn’t even know why Meg despises him—they’ve never talked and Cas can’t have possibly done anything to upset her. On the other hand, Meg appears to loathe everyone. So why is she here?

“Enough pleasantries,” Dean says then, “let’s get to work.” With a look he signals Cas it’s his turn, who starts to fidget once again with his backpack until he pulls out a spiral notebook and opens it on the first page.

“So, uh,” he pauses to regain his composure under the three pairs of eyes watching him. “Welcome to the Eldridge Hotel,” he says with a small gesture of his free hand and Meg groans beside him.

“And I thought it’s the Four Seasons—what a bummer…”

Cas glances at her from the corner of his eyes, cautiously wrapping his exposed arm around himself but Meg doesn’t seem to feel like hurting him. For now.

With a weary look at Meg, Charlie says to him, “Please, continue.”

Cas clears his throat once again. “It was initially built as the Free State Hotel in the mid-1850s by the New England Emigrant Aid Company of Boston, Massachusetts, in the hope to draw other anti-slavery settlers to the territory. A month after construction was completed in 1856, the hotel was destroyed again by a pro-slavery group lead by the county sheriff.

Colonel Shalor Eldridge and his brother Thomas, who had already leased the Free State Hotel, purchased the site and rebuilt what was then known as Eldridge House. In 1863, during the Civil War, however, the hotel was burned down once again, but was restored a second time.

The hotel was said to be one of the best in the area and stood proud until 1925. In the 1970s it was converted into an apartment building. In the last decade, investors were intent to bring the Eldridge back to its glory and re-open it as a hotel and here we are now.” He looks around their small circle after he’s finished his report. They better appreciate his effort. He spent an hour in the public library after school for this.

Meg is the first to speak up. “Thanks for the history lesson, Clarence.”

Cas furrows his brows in annoyance. “My name is Castiel.”

“That’s what I said.”

Before Cas can counter her statement, Dean chimes in, “So as we see, the Eldridge has a dark and eventful past. There have been many witness reports over the years of unexplained occurrences like doors slamming shut on their own and even full-body apparitions, some of which are said to be the ghost of Colonel Eldridge himself. The most haunted place in the hotel is supposed to be room 506, allegedly due to the hotel’s original corner stone being displayed there.”

“We will examine this particular room in a minute,” Charlie throws in.

“Other haunted areas in the hotel include the elevator, the basement and Colonel Eldridge’s chair.”

“Let me guess,” Cas says, “we’re taking the haunted elevator up to the haunted room.”

With a teeth-flashing grin, Dean replies, “You bet.”

Cas sighs. He isn’t particularly scared because he doesn’t actually believe in ghosts. Of course, he thinks there’s some kind of afterlife—you know, good people go to Heaven and bad people go to Hell, he can get behind that. And there’s this whole concept of the Holy Spirit which he has yet to really grasp, and then there’s God, obviously. He has accepted the idea of a higher power but he never felt like it plays as big a role in his life as his parents would like it. But that’s an entirely different story.

“So what’s the plan?” he asks.

“We go up to room 506,” Charlie says, “make it our base camp. Then we look around a bit, check out the places Dean mentioned and then assemble again at base camp to conclude our investigation with a little séance.”

Cas huffs in belittling surprise. “A séance? Really?”

Something hits him in the shoulder—Meg’s fist (not her foot). Ouch. “Come on, that’s the best part.”

It’s three against one, so Cas just sits there wordlessly, rubbing his aching arm. The next thing that comes to his mind, that little jerk, is that séances usually require hand-holding and an image of Dean taking his hand into his flashes before his eyes. He slightly shakes his head to get rid of the picture. His face feels hot all of a sudden, heart beating fast.

“I’ll go get the key,” Charlie says then, “Meg?” Weirdly, Meg follows her to the reception desk without an argument.

Cas gets up, too, and shoves the notebook back into his backpack. “Everything okay?” Dean asks, suddenly right next to him.

“Sure, why?” Cas brushes him off.

“I know I didn’t tell you before about Charlie coming along and so…”

“And Meg.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know about that either until tonight.” Then, there’s the heavy weight of Dean’s hand on his shoulder “But hey, aren’t you glad she’s here?”

“Quit the jokes, please,” Cas says and shoves the hand off his shoulder. “This is not funny. Never was. I’m not into her and she probably only dreams of me in the context of murdering me in my sleep.”

“So whipped,” Dean chuckles and slaps his back. Cas groans with a watchful eye on Meg as the girls approach them, Charlie leisurely rotating the keyring on her finger.

“Shall we?” she says and Cas hangs his backpack over one shoulder.

“Wait,” Dean says, “get the camera. What if something happens while we’re in the elevator?”

“I don’t think the camera will be able to catch whether you fart in there,” Cas says and walks past him. Meg lets out a brief, amused snort.

The elevator ride up to the fifth floor is uneventful. From there it’s only a short way to their room. An inconspicuous sign identifies the room number on a simple white door. Charlie puts the key in the lock, turns, and it gives way to the supposedly haunted inside.

She turns on the lights and Cas follows after Meg. There is a small corridor, a door which assumingly leads to the bathroom. The room is quite spacious. There is a big double bed, two comfy chairs and a coffee table. Dark wood and colors add to the atmosphere.

“I’ll take the bed,” Meg says and drops onto the mattress.

“Nobody is taking the bed,” Charlie says. “Here.” She begins to push aside one of the chairs and Dean comes to help get the furniture out of the way.

Charlie is the first to sit cross-legged on the carpet floor. She waits for everyone to follow suit, only Meg doesn’t leave her spot on the bed.

“Could you at least pretend to be part of this,” Dean says.

“No,” says Meg without moving and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Just leave her,” Charlie says with a calming hand on his forearm and an unexpected spark of jealousy jolts through Cas’s chest. _They’re friends, just friends,_ Cas reassures himself. Charlie has never shown any interest in Dean or the other way around. What’s wrong with him with today?

“I suggest there should always be two of us in the room in case of activity,” she says. “The others can go explore the rest of the hotel.”

“But we only have one camera,” Cas points out.

“Better one than none,” she says. “Who wants to check out the basement?”

“I’ll take the first watch here,” Dean is quick to announce. Coward. “Cas, why don’t you go? You’ve got the camera and all.” _Traitor!_

Cas opens his mouth to reply but Meg speaks first. “I don’t mind. I’ve been down there a million times.”

“Good,” Charlie says. “Cas, are you okay with you and Meg investigating the basement?”

“Fine,” Cas snaps and unpacks the video camera. He’s so mad at Dean right now he doesn’t even care. This night was supposed to be just the two of them and now he’s shipped off to a haunted basement with Meg frickin’ Masters, of all people, while Dean is having a fun time with Charlie in a fancy hotel room all for themselves.

They go back to the elevator in silence. He wonders if Meg wonders if the basement is a good place to hide a dead body. His dead body.

He punches the button for the ground floor and begins, “So….” He didn’t actually have a plan about where to go from there and trails off.

“Wow, you’re an amazing conversationalist,” Meg says after an awkward pause.

Cas says nothing and the elevator doors open to the lobby. Meg exists first. “This way,” she states in her ever-present slur and Cas walks after her.

Behind a door she presents a set of stairs that leads downwards into what appears to be a multi-purpose room, with some kind of stage area on the far end. Chairs are stacked atop each other along the wall.

“You said you come here often,” Cas says. “Have you ever seen a ghost? Or anywhere else in the hotel?”

“Nope,” she says, popping the p.

“Do you know anyone who has?”

She sticks her hands in the backpockets of her jeans. “Ghost chasers come around here every now and then, sometimes claiming they’ve found definitive proof and then show my dad photos of the ‘ghost’ they encountered.”

“And?”

“Complete bullcrap, if you ask me.”

“How so?”

“Sometimes it’s just a smudge on the lens, or a speck of dust caught in the flash, or the film is faulty. Most of the time it’s just shadows. You know how easily those though ghost hunter guys get spooked by their own shadow? It’s hilarious.”

“So you don’t believe in ghosts?”

“Do you?” she counters.

Cas’s eyes scan the room. “Not really, no.”

“Then what are you even doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

For a split second she appears to be thrown off kilter. “Well, but I asked you first.”

Cas shrugs. “Because it’s fun, I guess.”

“Is it?” She spins around, hands still in her pockets. “Hey,” she says then, looking over her shoulder. “How about you get that thing rolling and I’ll tell you a scary story?”

Cas turns the camera in his hand. “I don’t know. I’ve only got one tape. We should probably save it for later.”

Meg sticks out her tongue. “Bah!”

“Very mature,” Cas remarks.

Meg goes to climb on one of the chair towers and Cas waits for it to collapse but it doesn’t and she sits on the top chair. Cas comes closer. “Kneel, peasant,” she spits from above.

“You wish,” he says, puts the camera on the floor and climbs on the stack two rows over. He manages it without crashing to ground and is amazed by how well he can observe the room from up here. He likes how the quiet wide room stretches beneath them.

They sit there for a while until Meg announces she’s bored. “How do we get down?” he realizes with sudden terror.

“You jump, idiot,” Meg says and does just that.

Cas hesitates. He takes a deep, calming breath and pushes himself off the chair. Gladly, he lands on his feet but, on instinct, plunges to the side just as his soles hit the floor and the stack of chairs comes crashing down next to him, barely missing the video camera.

Meg drops to the floor, laughing hysterically.

“That’s not funny,” Cas hisses, heart racing. “I could’ve been killed.”

“You’re cute when you say things like that,” Meg says and Cas’s eyes go wide with horror. Did she actually just say he’s cute? Was Dean right about her?

“Maybe it was the ghost of Colonel Eldridge,” she says then, still giggling. “Maybe he doesn’t like you snooping around his hotel.”

“Very funny,” Cas says and picks up the camera, “haha.”

“I think we should go back to the room. I’ve seen enough round here.”

“Shouldn’t we clean up the mess?”

“Just blame it on one of the ghosts,” she dismisses him and starts towards the door.

“How was it?” Dean asks and jumps from the bed he and Charlie have both been sitting on.

“A ghost tried to kill him,” Meg says and Dean shoots him a weirded-out look.

“No ghosts, just an accident,” Cas corrects.

Dean comes rushing towards him, suddenly concerned. “Why, what happened, Cas?”

“Nothing, really.”

“You sure,” he says, examining him from head to toe. “You look a bit spooked.”

“That’s because I was almost buried under a stack of chairs.” Dean’s eyes still bore into him, pushing deeper. “I’m fine,” Cas insists and flees to one of the chairs lined up against the wall. One should think he’s having enough of chairs for a while but he just wants to sit down a bit and the floor doesn’t appear too welcoming. Meg has already reconquered her spot on the bed next to Charlie.

“So, no supernatural occurrences?” Dean asks a bit disappointed.

Cas shakes his head. “How about you? Anything happen while we were gone?”

Dean puffs out some air and folds his arms over his chest. “No, nothing.”

“Okay then,” Charlie says and claps her hands together. “Dean, are you taking a look at the old colonel’s chair with me?”

“Sure,” he says. “Cas, can you give me the camera?”

Cas grips it tightly in both hands. “No.”

Dean jerks his head around. “What, why not?”

“I don’t trust you to be careful with it.”

Dean’s shoulders sag. “Cas, come on,” he whines.

“I said no.”

“But what if we—”

“No,” Cas repeats firmly. “Maybe something happens in the room while you’re gone.” He raises both eyebrows, purses his lips and tilts his head slightly.

“Fine,” Dean sighs and storms out.

“Don’t worry,” Charlie says, “I’ve got my own camera. Apparitions are said to appear on film sometimes only after you develop it, even though there was nothing to see when the picture was taken.” She hangs an expensive looking Canon around her neck and follows Dean outside.

When they’re both gone, Meg scoots to the end of the bed. “Trouble in paradise, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pissed at him.”

“Yeah, because he talked me into doing this tonight and now he spends all his time with Charlie while I have to hang out with you.” His breath hitches when he realizes what he just said and starts to mentally prepare himself to die at Meg’s hands.

“And you’re scared they could become a thing and then your best friend would only ever wanna hang out with her.”

Cas’s first instinct is to argue, tell her how wrong she is but then her words sink in and he realizes that she actually hit a nerve there. That’s exactly what he’s scared of. “How did you—”

“I’m psychic.”

“Really?”

“No, dumbo. But I know how to read people.”

“Huh.”

Meg doesn’t further elaborate and switches the TV on with the remote on the nightstand, leaving Cas to brood in his weird feelings. She puts on a channel that shows a rerun of a seventies sitcom but all Cas can focus on is what he’s supposed to do when—(and it’s definitely a when, not an if)—Dean gets a girlfriend, whether it be Charlie or some other girl.

About twenty minutes later, the door bursts open and Dean comes bouncing in, overly excited. “Guys! You won’t believe what just happened.”

Charlie enters the room behind him, seeming a fair bit less enthusiastic, though she’s beaming at Dean as if she’s glad he’s having a good time.

“This place is definitely haunted!”

“Well,” Charlie throws in, voice small, “I wouldn’t go that far. I guess there’s a chance.”

Dean isn’t listening. “When we came to see the chair—and keep in mind that this particular chair, Colonel Eldridge’s chair is said to never even collect dust—I swear the air around the chair was significantly cooler than anywhere else. And, very lightly though, I noticed a whiff of tobacco. The colonel’s ghost has been reported to sometimes be sitting in his chair and smoke his pipe.”

“Did you actually see him there?” Cas asks.

“No, but… I felt this presence, I swear, like someone _was_ there but I couldn’t see them.”

“Any comments from you, Charlie?” Meg says.

“Um…” She’s looking down at her shoes, stalling. “Well, uh, I didn’t see or hear anything. I didn’t actually smell anything either. It’s also a kinda drafty place where they store the chair.”

“ _Charlie,”_ Dean begs, “won’t you back me up there a little? Didn’t you feel that there was something, someone?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, Dean.”

“You’re very suggestive,” Meg says, “I’ll give you that.”

“Huh?”

“It’s supposed to smell like pipe tobacco down there—you smell tobacco. You’ve been told there’s a spirit attached to the chair—you feel someone’s presence. You felt cold—there’s a draft.”

“I know what I saw,” Dean insists.

“You just said you didn’t see anything,” Meg stresses.

Dean opens his mouth once but closes it again before saying anything. He looks a little bit hurt, defeated. He plops onto the floor and leans his head against the bed. Cas comes to sit next to him.

“You think I’m a liar, too?” Dean says.

“No one said you’re a liar,” Cas says.

“You know what I mean.”

“I think you believe very firmly in what you just experienced and I believe that you believe. No lie detected there.”

Dean lets out a relieved snort and drops his head against Cas’s shoulder who immediately tenses. Dean’s head doesn’t stay there for more than one or two seconds but the heat of their brief touch burns a hole through Cas’s shirt, his skin prickling from the sensation.

“And who knows—maybe something’ll show up on photo,” Charlie says, then, “What next? Should we check out the rest of the hotel? Maybe we catch a ghost in the hallways.”

“I’ll go,” Meg volunteers immediately and Cas quickly adds, “Don’t look at me. I had enough with the chairs in the basement.”

“I’m going with you,” Charlie says, leaving the room to the boys.

Now that Cas has finally got Dean to himself, he doesn’t know what to say. The night isn’t going as it was supposed to anyway.

“So, a séance?” he starts.

Dean gets up from the floor and Cas fears Dean thinks he was mocking him again. Instead Dean goes to his own backpack and pulls out a long but flat carton.

“A Ouija board?” Cas realizes. “Where did you get that?” The carton looks old and battered.

“I found it in our attic. It was my mom’s when she was a teenager. Apparently it’s what all the cool kids had in the seventies,” he says with a smirk.

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Please. You just put your fingers on the planchette and ask your questions. Then it will move to letters and spell a word or you could just ask yes or no questions. Easy-peasy.”

“Have you ever done it before?”

Dean sits again, putting the board on the floor in front of them. “No,” he says, “I was waiting for a good opportunity.”

“When did you find it then?”

“Couple of weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me, ‘hey, Cas, guess what? I found my mom’s Ouija board.’”

Dean frowns. “I didn’t know you where into that kinda thing. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Cas says, “I’m not really anyway. Just…would’ve liked to know.”

“Got it.”

The silence that follows feels thick as jelly and the sudden thought of food—peanut butter and jelly sandwich—evokes a grumble from Cas’s stomach and his face flushes from embarrassment as Dean lets out a laugh.

“You think we get in trouble if we raid the minibar?” he says, already crawling towards the cabinet that conceals a mini fridge.

“Someone forgot to clear out the alcohol,” he says, waving a small bottle of vodka at him.

“ _Dean.”_

“I’m kidding,” he says and puts the bottle back in its place. Instead he retrieves a packet of M&Ms and throws it at Cas who catches it gracefully with his nose.

Happily, he munches away on his candy while Dean shoves a handful of peanuts in his mouth. “Want some?” he says through his chewing and holds the packet out to him. Cas gladly accepts and trades the peanuts for some of his M&Ms.

“Should’ve thought of bringing snacks,” he says. _Peanut butter and jelly, mmmh._

“Dad never lets us dig into the minibar on vacation,” Dean says, “if there even is a minibar.”

The door slams shut and Dean’s drops a few peanuts as he turns his attention to the corridor. “Quick, eat up,” he tells Cas. “I’m not sharing our free snacks with the girls.”

But the corridor remains silent.

“Charlie?” Dean calls out. His voice can be so deep and gruff sometimes, it gives him goosebumps. Cas wonders if his own voice will ever drop that low.

No answer. “What the—” Dean says and gets up to look. “Huh,” Cas hears him from the corridor.

“What is it?”

“There’s no one there.”

When Cas joins him, Dean has opened the door and is looking out into a vacant hallway. “You heard the door slam shut, too, right?”

“I did.”

Dean looks left and right. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Maybe it was another room,” Cas offers. “Thin walls, possibly.”

“Sounded like this one.”

“Yeah, I know. But still…”

Dean lets out a sharp breath through his nose and closes the door again.

“I guess you’re right,” Dean says.

There’s a loud thump at the door and Dean and Cas both jump away from it. Dean gives him a look, expression unreadable. Is it fear, annoyance? Dean tears the door open before Cas can tell him not to do it. Darkness seeps in from the unlit hallway. The motion detector hasn’t even been triggered, yet there was definitely someone at the door.

“Dean,” he says, just to reassure himself that he’s not alone.

Dean closes the door once again. “Get the camera,” he says and Cas doesn’t argue this time. He presses the red record button and aims the lens at the door, Dean standing a small distance away, ready to rip it open once more.

They stay like this for a few minutes, no sound filling the corridor expect for their breathing. After a while, Cas puts down the camera and turns it off. His arm is aching. “I think it stopped,” he says.

“Just wait,” Dean whispers and Cas sighs, leaning against the wall. They wait for another two or three minutes until Dean gives in as well.

They go back into the room where Cas picks up the rest of his M&Ms. “That was odd, wasn’t it,” he says.

“I wish we had it on camera,” Dean says, shoving the remainder of his peanuts towards Cas.

“And what would that proof? Anyone could stage that. We know it happened, though.”

“So you believe in ghosts now?”

Cas swallows the peanut and M&Ms mush in his mouth. “I’m just saying that I don’t know what that just was either. I’m open, you know, to anything.”

“We should get started with the Ouija board,” Dean says.

“Now? Aren’t we waiting for the girls?”

“And wait until the entity is gone again? No way.” He lifts the lid off the carton and takes out the board. “It’s better with just us anyway. I don’t trust Meg to not sabotage this.”

“Speaking of Meg,” Cas throws in the question he’s been burning to ask all night. “I thought tonight was just going to be the two of us.”

Dean places the planchette in the middle of the board. “That was the plan.”

“But?”

“But… Okay, I had no clue how to sneak around the hotel without getting caught so I asked Charlie for advice and she came up with the most obvious solution, though I doubt they would’ve let two boys stay here all on their own, but when a responsible-looking girl tags along, we’re good to go. And Meg was just collateral damage.”

“Hey,” Cas says, “don’t talk about her like that. She seems like an okay person, I guess.”

“So you like her?” To his surprise, Dean sounds all serious now.

“Not like that,” Cas clarifies, “but I think we could be friends. Like you and Charlie, you know.” Smoothly, Cas lays out his bait. If Dean and Charlie are more than friends, he better tell him now.

“I see,” Dean says. Then, he clears his throat before resuming, “I would’ve brought candles but I guess they’re a fire hazard and this place has burned down enough times already. So, put a finger of both your hands on here.” Cas places the tips of his forefingers on the planchette and, after quickly dimming the lights, Dean does so as well.

He hesitates.

“What is it?” Cas asks.

“I don’t actually know how to do this.”

“Isn’t there a manual in that box?”

“Must’ve gotten lost. I don’t have one.”

Cas jerks his shoulders. “Just say whatever comes to your mind.”

Dean looks up at him from under his eyelashes. He licks his lips. “Okay, right, let’s do this.” He pauses again, closing his eyes. “Hello… Are there any spirits with us tonight? We don’t mean you any harm. We just wish to talk to you. If you’d like, you can communicate with us through this board.”

Cas is staring at Dean who still has his eyes shut, listening.

“Don’t be shy,” Dean continues after a minute. “How about you tell us your name first? My name is Dean, who are you?”

Nothing happens.

Cas glances down at the board and notices how close their fingers are on the planchette, almost touching. So much for hand holding, however. Why is he thinking about hand holding? His finger is itching to stretch and just gently graze the freckled skin on Dean’s.

He suddenly becomes aware of Dean watching him. Then Dean’s eyes drop to their neighboring fingers and Cas’s breath gets stuck in his throat.

Cas parts his lips slightly. He wants to say something but doesn’t know what. The planchette refuses to move.

“We could hold hands,” Cas blurts out.

“What?”

“I’ve seen it in a movie once. People were holding hands during a séance.”

“And how is the planchette supposed to move then?”

“If there’s a ghost, it will manage to move it around without us holding onto it. We weren’t going to move it on our own anyway but the spirit was going to. I think you’re supposed to build a circle and to capture the energy at the center.”

“How are we making a circle—there are only two of us.”

The most logical answer is to just wait for the girls to come back. But Cas isn’t going to take that chance. “We could just try it.”

Dean lets out a long sigh. “Fine,” he says and reaches out both hands and Cas almost loses his balance from a sudden burst of excitement.

Dean’s hands are warm, his palms unexpectedly soft. Cas’s are sweaty and he instantly regrets his request.

He is staring at Dean, trying to keep his hands still. Dean is staring back. “Close your eyes, Cas,” he says. Cas swallows hard but does as he’s told. The reason why they’re doing this had completely escaped his mind.

“Spirits,” he hears Dean’s voice, all serious and smooth, “if any of you feel like reaching out, please talk to us. Send us a sign.”

The night around Cas is completely silent, except for Dean’s shallow breathing. He can feel Dean’s racing pulse through their connected hands. Or is it his own? Dean is so close and Cas isn’t quite sure if he’s disoriented because his eyes are closed or if he’s actually gravitating into his space. He just wants to take a quick peek to make sure he isn’t about to knock him over but what if he gets caught cheating?

“Cas, stop that,” Dean says.

“Sorry,” is his immediate response but then he wonders, “stop what exactly?”

“You’re touching my knee with your foot.”

His grip on Dean’s hands tightens. “I’m not.”

Dean hasn’t got anything to say to that but he grasps stronger at him.

“Do you still feel it?”

“Can we please open our eyes?” Dean asks instead. He thinks it’s better not to ask why he isn’t just doing so.

“On three. One, two…three.”

There’s nothing there. Cas, though, is sitting a safe distance away, making it impossible for his feet or legs to touch Dean.

“Are you sure you couldn’t have imagined it?” he asks. They haven’t let go of each other’s hands.

“Something was definitely touching me,” Dean says, quite shaken.

“I think we should end this now,” Cas says.

“Agreed.”

Cas looks at their joined hands and Dean seems to realize only now they haven’t stopped yet and awkwardly unwinds his fingers from Cas’s. A moment of silence follows.

“Are you scared?” Cas asks.

“Are you?” A typical Dean trait.

Cas bites his bottom lip. “Only if you are.”

Wide-eyed, Dean gawks at him for a moment. “This is stupid,” he says then and gets on his feet. “Let’s do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. We could go outside for a bit.”

“Leave the room? What if the girls come back?”

“Only for a minute. Come on, Cas.” He is distraught. Whiny.

“You can tell me when you’re scared,” Cas tries to soothe.

“I’m not scared,” Dean insists. “Grab the camera, will you.”

“All right,” Cas says and gets up from the floor. The video camera is on the cabinet that holds the minibar. _Weird,_ he thinks. He could have sworn he’d switched it off before.

“Cas?”  
“Coming!”

The lights in the hallway turn on when they step outside. Dean pockets the key and walks towards the elevator. It’s moving. Someone is coming up from the ground floor. The girls? They wait until it reaches their level. There’s the dull ping noise and the doors slide open. It’s empty.

“What the—” Dean says and takes a cautious look inside. “Are you filming this?”

Cas nods and directs the camera at Dean. He takes a step back again, waiting. The doors won’t close.

“Technical defect?” Cas provides.

Dean hums in thought, sticks his arm inside the elevator and presses the button for the second floor. Still, the doors stay open.

“Maybe it’s broken,” Cas says. “This doesn’t mean anything. Neglected maintenance, perhaps, to fan rumors of supernatural activity.”

Dean shoots him a look. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m only trying to find a rational explanation.”

“And what rational explanation, if you don’t mind me asking, do you have for the thing touching my knee before?”

“Muscle twitching?” He’s now wildly gesticulating, not minding the camera focus. “How am I supposed to know what you felt…”

They’re both startled by a door creaking a few yards down the hallway, Dean extending a protective arm across Cas’s body. “Kids,” a man says. He’s opened his door a small crack, sticking out his balding head. “Mind keeping it down a little. Or do I have to get your parents?”

Dean’s body stiffens. Back straight, chest out, he says, “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

The man huffs and disappears inside his room again, door falling into its lock.

“Let’s go back inside,” Cas murmurs and Dean gives him a concurring nod.

When they’re almost by the door of room 506, they stop abruptly as they hear the elevator doors sliding closed. Neither of them dares to turn their heads. Instead, they quicken their steps and hurry to open the door, Dean failing twice to slide the key into the look before he manages to do so.

As soon as they’re inside, they fall with their backs against the closed door, panting slightly. Dean meets Cas’s eyes while they’re trying to catch their breaths. He smiles. And then Cas smiles, too, and then they’re both laughing. And then they’re out of breath again, from laughter this time.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Dean wheezes, holding his aching stomach and slapping a flat hand onto Cas’s shoulder, then squeezes it.

“Me? You’re one to talk. I hope I’ve got some of it on tape. You looked so scared.”

“Never.” Dean’s beaming at him. His eyes are glassy with tears, face flushed. Gradually, Cas’s facial muscles relax. His cheeks hurt.

He’s being drawn into Dean’s orbit, slowly. Long lashes lower themselves over narrowing eyes. The air is thick again, so thick, he can’t breathe. Then he feels Dean’s breath, hot, just briefly, before their lips touch, his entire body humming with electricity. Dean’s mouth is warm, moist. He tastes like peanuts—or is it just taste on his own tongue? It doesn’t matter.

Dean runs his hand up Cas’s arm, barely even touching, until it reaches the base of his neck, rubbing his thumb gently over his collarbone and Cas feels prompted to deepen the kiss. He angles his head more, parts his lips and—

A heavy thud against the door makes them leap away, almost tripping over each other. Dean holds onto him, eyes fixed on the door. Only now Cas realizes he’s aiming the camera at it. He can feel Dean’s agitated heartbeat next to his. Once more, a knock on the wood, then a second echoes through the corridor and they scoot even further backwards. Both boys hold their breaths.

“Guys?” comes Charlie’s voice from the other side.

Dean’s grip on him loosens and Cas lowers the camera.

She knocks again. “Guys, are you in there?”

Dean lets go of him and goes to open the door.

“Wow,” Charlie says, “what happened to you? You look like you’ve seen ghost.”

Dean shakes his head, sheepishly running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. We just got startled by your knocking.”

“Why?” Meg says. “What were you doing?”

Cas’s ears feel like they just caught on fire. “Nothing,” he says, probably too quickly.

“I see,” Meg says, noticing the unpacked Ouija board on the floor. “Couldn’t wait till we got back, huh?”

“I didn’t work anyway,” Dean shrugs it off.

“Have you said goodbye or did we interfere too soon?”

“Say goodbye?” Cas asks. “To whom?”

Meg groans and throws hear head back. “You have to say goodbye if you don’t want something following you home. Don’t you buffoons know anything?”

Dean and Cas exchange a look. “Don’t laugh,” Dean says and sits on the floor, signaling Cas to follow his lead. He reaches out his hands and waits for Cas to take them, more anxious than ever, now that they have an audience and the memory of their kiss lingering on his lips.

They close their eyes and Dean says, “Spirits. Thank you. But enough is enough. Time to go back home into the veil. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Cas echoes.

‘What was that?’ Charlie mouths in Meg’s direction, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

Dean has let go of Cas’s hands again and wipes the palms on his jeans, almost as if he’s downplaying the fact that he just held a boy’s hands, if only for purposes of communicating with the dead. “Seen anything?” he asks the girls.

“No,” Charlie says. “My grandmother’s house is probably more haunted than this place. Have I ever told you about ghost kitty?”

“What she means is,” Meg throws in, “we didn’t encounter any ghosts. You, on the other hand…”

After an uncomfortable pause, Cas finally says, “Maybe there was something. But we’re not sure.”

“What something?” Charlie asks.

“Well, there was this knock on the door, but there was no one there when we went to look. And the elevator doors where acting up. But—”

“Probably nothing,” Dean says.

“Yeah,” Cas exhales.

“Huh,” Meg says. Her face turns into a weird grimace, eyeing Cas suspiciously.

“I’d say we’re done here,” Dean concludes then and proceeds to pack up the Ouija board.

“Already?” Charlie asks, disappointed. “Well, fine. You obviously couldn’t wait for us with the séance anyway.”

They all grab their stuff and take the elevator—which works normally again—down to the lobby and return the key to Rufus who seems glad to be rid of them. The Cesar guy, apparently, has been ordered to return the manager’s daughter home safely in his car and Charlie is offered a lift, which leaves the boys alone out on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

“Where do you have your bike?” Dean asks, unlocking his that was parked right by the entrance.

“Chained to a pole around the corner,” Cas says. “I would have left it here if you’d just told me we had permission to sneak around.”

“Sorry again,” Dean says and starts to push his bike in the direction Cas indicated.

When Cas has his bike and they’ve got out on the street, he stops. “Um, Dean?”

Dean turns around. “Yes?”

Cas doesn’t know how to word his question. Nervously, his fingers dance over the handlebar. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

It’s still dark. The early morning air is fresh, the airflow tingling his face. They reach Cas’s house first. Dean’s is two blocks over. The house sits quiet, all lights off. A good sign that nobody has noticed his absence yet.

“Dean,” he says once again after he’s dismounted his bike.

“Hm?”

“Are we—are we good? Are we okay? After the… You know.”

Dean’s chin drops to chest. Cas churns his teeth. His palms are all sweaty on the handle.

“You know what—” It’s better to pull the emergency brake now than to ruin his friendship with Dean. “We can just forget it happened. Never speak of it agai—”

Dean has pulled Cas towards him by the front of his shirt. He’s kissing him.

“Do you want to come over tomorrow and watch the tape?” Dean asks then, short-winded.

“I’d like to,” Cas says, lips turned up into a broad grin.

“Call me around lunchtime,” he says before pushing the pedals and heading down the road. Cas’s heart leaps in his chest when Dean casts a last look over his shoulder.

Although this night didn’t go as initially planned, Cas is now perfectly okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
